


the lights were out

by AugustIsComing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blackouts, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustIsComing/pseuds/AugustIsComing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Samandriel/Gadreel + Power outage causes them to have dinner by candle light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lights were out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casinthongs (kety777)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=casinthongs+%28kety777%29).



> In which the focus should have probably been the dinner but turns out to be Gadreel's metaphorical power outage.

When the lights are all off as he reaches the building, Gadreel’s heart stops. Oh God, did he forget? Is he sleeping? How _could_ he just fall asleep? Worse, did he leave? Could he have just up and left, would he avoid him like that? Had he done anything wrong? He had been building up the courage to ask Samandriel out for three _months_.

Their routine had been pretty much the same for since they met: Gadreel would walk by the small café Samandriel worked at, order a latte or a espresso, sometimes something sweet that Samandriel would always offer with a shy smile, they would talk while he consumed whatever he ordered, Dean the cashier would smile knowingly at him, and Castiel, his cousin, who watched the whole process from his newsstand on the corner, would tell him to just ask the guy out already.

Well, he finally had. He did it. Spilled it all over Samandriel, along with the cup of  ice cold orange juice a random customer nearby had been drinking.

They had decided, once had had profusely apologised, because Samandriel had spoken too many times about his famous lasagne, to just spend an evening in at his studio apartment downtown.

And now here Gadreel is, but the lights are all out, and his heart is nested together with his stomach, having dropped when he noticed he was probably being stood up.

He tried to ring the bell to apartment 37, like Samandriel had told him to, but there’s no noise, and Gadreel wonders if anyone lived there at all.

The brunet stands underneath a street lamp. It’s six thirty on a Friday night, a bit late, because he had to walk there from work. He had been stupid. That man is way out of his league, all kind smiles and bright eyes. Gadreel has too rough edges. It feels like some sort of cruel prank, something that Samandriel couldn’t possibly be capable of, but the dark windows seem to be laughing at him as he searches them with too much hope.

Gadreel sighs and turns to leave when out of the corner of his eyes he notices movement on a window on the third floor.

“Hey!” Samandriel’s voice calls out, and he turns back to see his head popping out of the window. Gadreel can barely make out his features in the faint light, but he had never been more relieved. “Did you not get my text?” The younger man is whisper-screaming so he can hear him. “There’s no power in the building, I’m coming down for you, wait!”

His head disappears back into the apartment before Gadreel can say anything, and he rushes to the front door. Of course. He had been so paranoid, his anxiety getting the best of him. _Of course_. All the other buildings’ lights are on, and it looks like an okay neighbourhood, why on earth would a building nice like this one be empty?

His phone is, he’s not surprised to learn, out of service, and Samandriel opens the door when he’s putting it up in the air, hoping for some reception, wondering what text he had lost.

“Hi.” Samandriel smiles, sounding a bit breathless. Gadreel looks at him, really _looks at him_ , now that the streetlamp is more useful, and he’s perfect, a little ethereal even, wearing a black and white polka dot shirt, his fair hair and face the only things actually easy to see, and the taller man wants to lean down and kiss the spot he has under his eye.

“Hello.” He says instead, and he’s a bit ashamed of all his speculation earlier, even   though Samandriel couldn’t possibly know. “It’s good to see you. I was... Hm, concerned you didn’t really live here.” Gadreel laughs nervously. “No service for my phone,” he explains.

“Good to see you too... I’m so sorry! I texted you as soon as the lights went out, because the landlord said they could be gone for up to five hours. I’ve kinda been keeping myself from checking the window every five minutes while I set the table.” Samandriel’s laughter matches his own, and Gadreel relaxes a bit. Maybe they’re both equally nervous. “Come on up, I have a flashlight, but mind the steps. We have to use the stairs, ‘cause, you know, no power.”

Gadreel nods, and he tries not to feel awkward as he follows Samandriel in the dark to his apartment. When they reach it, there are candles everywhere, of all shapes and sizes and colours, covering seemingly every last smooth surface. The place smells of Italian food and... Cinnamon rolls. Or is it vanilla? Or... Caramel? There seems to be some apple in the mix. The smells are mixed sweetly but oddly, it’s not really pungent, but it’s obviously there, and Gadreel can’t possibly put his finger on what is originating it. He can’t say it’s not good, though.

“So... I didn’t really have that many candles. I ran to a store and bought pretty much everything they had.” Samandriel is blushing, and Gadreel can only barely notice it under the yellow glow of the candles. “...I may have binge bought way too many scented ones, in the past, though, and it seemed to be a good excuse to start burning them... I blew them out before you got here so it wouldn’t smell... Well, like this, but yeah, it’s still pretty strong, isn’t it, I’m sorry. We could reschedule if you’d rather! I know it’s not ideal, but I did make that lasagna. So, I don’t know, it’s up to you.” He speaks a bit too fast, like his thoughts just all eventually start to run over themselves, but Gadreel is already used to hanging on his every word, so it’s all good.

“Samandriel. It smells lovely. And your food... Well, if it tastes as delicious as it smells, I truly do not want to pass on it.” Gadreel meant it. And also he wouldn’t cancel a date with this man unless his house were on fire. “I don’t see why we’d have to reschedule. I believe candle-lit dinners to be a trend for dates, aren’t they?”

“I guess... I guess they kinda are, yeah.” Samandriel smile is shy but it verges on confident this time, and things finally appear to be going the right way, so they settle in on the table for two once Samandriel retrieves the lasagna, and talk the evening out, drinking cheap but sweet wine and enjoying their meal.

* * *

 

It’s midnight, and they move the candles that haven’t burnt out yet to the area around the couch. Neither of them is drunk, but there’s a buzz there, a happy, comfortable one, kind of like a fat bee keeps flying around their heads, not close enough to startle them, but enough to let itself be known.

Gadreel sits down on the couch, and he takes his shoes off before pulling his legs up and crossing them in front of himself. Samandriel’s orange cat, waddles his way down the stairs that lead to the queen sized bed on the far corner of the room, a corner Gadreel can’t quite see, as there are only one or two candles that way. It nests itself on his legs, and he’s petting its ears without much thought, watching as Samandriel moves around, lighting a few short and wide candles, and he guesses those are the scented ones he had put out earlier.

When Samandriel lets himself fall onto the couch, he tucks his feet under Gadreel’s legs, with a comfortable ease that had been growing between them all evening. It feels natural. It is natural.

Gadreel should probably get going. If this were a normal date, he probably should have gone hours before. But the night had crept in on them as they spoke, and wrapped itself around them like a comfortable blanket. Or maybe it is just the alcohol.

None of them really cares.

None of them feels like going anywhere.

“So you like my food.” Samandriel starts out of the blue, lifting his chin up a little, eyes on Gadreel’s.

“And you like my writing.” He counters.

“You’re a good journalist.” The blond brushes it off with a wave of his hand.

“You’re a decent cook.”

“Just decent!?” Samandriel feigns resentment, his foot poking Gadreel’s leg, startling his cat for a moment before it settles back into purring joyfully.

“Perfect. You’re a perfect cook.” Gadreel corrects himself, smiling fondly at Samandriel.

“So. You like my food.” He repeats. “And you like my flat. And my coffee shop... And apparently my cat.” The shorter man watches him playing with the orange fur for a moment.

“I do.”

“You like an awful lot about me.”

“I like _you_.” Gadreel says matter-of-factly.

“That’s just stating the obvious.” Samandriel teases.

“I thought that was the game we were playing?”

“Nah. I was just wondering. You know. You’ve been around the café for a long time...”

“Yeah...?”

“So for how long? How long have you liked me?” His blue eyes are serious in the dim light. More serious than they have been all night, not even a hint of his easy smile dancing on his lips.

“All along.” Gadreel replies immediately, because he’s a journalist, and he doesn’t like dancing around important questions.

Samandriel purses his lips. Wasn’t that the answer he had expected?

“Is that upsetting?” The brunet asks carefully, taking the cat off his lap and setting it on the floor. It walks away a bit indignantly as Gadreel leans forward to watch Samandriel more carefully.

“You knew all this time, and you waited? Why?”

Oh.

“You’re intimidating.” Gadreel admits with a deep sigh.

Samandriel scoffs, sitting up and mirroring Gadreel’s position, their noses almost bumping with his momentum.

“You’re a six foot tall dude. I’m a scrawny barista at some coffee shop. You literally tower over me.” Samandriel thinks he’s kidding. Of course he’d think he’s kidding.

“That’s not what I mean.” When Gadreel shakes his head the bee draws closer, he learns too late. Also the scented candles are a bit stronger now, and they smell like what Samandriel looks like, and it makes his heart feel like it’s receiving a massage.

“What _do_ you mean?”

“I mean you’re soft and pretty and kind. You’re lovely. Sometimes you smile at people, and I can just tell you made their day. You have a cat, and you live in this homey apartment, and you binge buy scented candles...” It’s Gadreel’s turn to scoff. “I don’t. I don’t binge buy. I’ve never done that. My dad was a novelist. So I write for a newspaper. No one buys newspapers anymore, but I can’t write fiction for shit. This is the closest I get. I’m all rough around the edges, Samandriel.”

Samandriel is frowning.

“I don’t... What are you saying?” He asks, and - God help him - he looks _cute_ , and Gadreel is so far gone.

“I’m saying you’re summer and spring. You’re probably even winter and autumn when it comes to blankets and fireplaces and hugs. And I’m all the ice cubes you can count.”

Samandriel is shaking his head, but it’s slow (and disbelieving), smart move, the buzzing probably didn’t change for him at all.

“You’re awful at metaphors.” He says, too fondly, too warm, too good. Gadreel wouldn’t deserve him in a billion years plus one. “Or you’re really just terrible at looking at yourself.”

The blond is on his lap, not really suddenly, he ought to have gotten there eventually.

“Ask me how long, Gadreel.” He demands, his breath hot and humid against his lips.

He’s hypnotizing.

“What...?”

“Ask how long I’ve known.”

“How long have you known what?”

“Oh, _God_!” Samandriel rolls his eyes at him, and it’s endearing, and the man’s kissing him before he knows it, gorgeous and right and lingering, he can always feel his lips where they were a moment after they have already moved elsewhere. He’s kissing back from the very start, not because he’s fully aware of how they got there, but because he had been waiting to kiss him for too long.

It’s a good wake up call, though, and when they break apart, Gadreel’s big hands on the bottom of Samandriel’s back, he finally catches up with the conversation.

“How long have you known?” He breathes it out, not really scared of the answer. He kind of had a guess.

“All along.” Samandriel says, his tongue poking out to wet his lips, and it sends Gadreel’s heart into a frenzy. “You made me wait for three months, you blind person, because basically you don’t think you’re creative enough for me or whatever. That’s an excuse, by the way, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Gadreel doesn’t speak. He doesn’t dare to. He’d been scared, terrified, anxious out of his skin. For nothing, nothing but the obstacles he put on his own way.

“You’re in love with me. That’s enough. I’m in love with you too.”

Gadreel jerks a little so he can look into Samandriel’s eyes, and when they meet there’s a flash. For a moment he thought he might have literally gone blind, or he might have passed out, or _something_ but then. Then his eyes adjust to the light.

“The lights are back.” He says, and for some reason in their shared silence, at 1am on a Saturday night, it means a lot.

“About _damn time_.” Samandriel agrees, and pushes him back before he’s kissing him again.


End file.
